Kayaks and Compromise

One of the most surprising, and most rewarding, things about my relationship with Seth has been our collective willingness to compromise. We're both hard-headed by nature, and were pretty set in our ways when we met- so it's been a series of pleasant surprises to both of us, I think, the number of times we give a little... and get a lot. For example, there is exponentially more taxidermy, football, processed food, and dirt ground into the carpet in my life than I ever thought possible before I met my husband. Conversely, though, I am overcome with appreciation for the fact that he meticulously makes the bed every morning (something I firmly believe he hadn't done for years prior to our marriage), did all the legwork for my purchase of another hybrid "hippie car," and acquiesces to Meatless Mondays. He does not love them, and the leftovers are all mine- and there is no cause for concern that the big caveman will start eating tofu regularly. But this week's quinoa-stuffed red peppers were pronounced edible at least, and just this morning he called to tell me he had eaten my Morningstar breakfast sausages (not realizing they were meatless, I can only assume) and they were not half bad.

The give-and-take definitely pays off in spades, and means that even with a very-pregnant wife, the big guy manages to spend non-class evenings in tree stands whenever possible. He's on a quest for Sika deer this year- his concession to staying closer to home in case of an early arrival- and, unbelievably, it's already bow season. So he's been trekking to the Eastern Shore, and I've been... well, I do bring work home, but as the countdown continues my evenings more often look like this. (Facials and "Daily Show" reruns before an early bedtime.)

I skated out of work early Friday, and we snuck in a bike ride along the canal, all the while feeling like we were playing hooky. It was a great way to kick off the weekend. We spent most of it sleeping in and enjoying the not-at-all-fall-like weather. I've been a little disappointed that it doesn't feel like apple pie and pumpkin spice season (my absolute favorite) yet, but it's hard to turn up one's nose at warm, sunny afternoons on the water. As kayaking is one of only a few of my favorite outdoor activities I can still do without feeling too slow and lumbering- although, as evidenced by the photo, there are lots of breaks taken- and Seth does love to fish, we managed gorgeous afternoons on both the Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac River. Both were spectacular, and Mr. OneMoreCast himself ensured maximum sunset-appreciation time as well.

I also finally got Seth to Harpers Ferry, where we spent a little time reading historic signs and a lot of it enjoying the warm weather and the first signs of fall over the old arsenal from our outdoor table at The Potomac Grille. We did some walking around, too, and- in true Walters fashion- I seem to have "forgotten" about all the stairs...

At any rate, it looks like it's going to be a nice fall (with or without the arrival of sweatshirt weather), as we trade our big adventures for lazy mornings and daytrips and enjoying sleep and spontaneity while we can. It's crazy how fast the weeks are flying by. Just yesterday, Lisa mentioned something about a hospital bag- we hadn't even thought about that yet!- and we finally completed our absurdly expensive "last few things for baby" order. Car seats are installed, though, so we're probably as ready as we're going to be. At least that's what we tell ourselves.

The photos of the week are two things that cracked me up. The first is what I grabbed (and got all over my hands, sadly) out of the back of Seth's truck when searching for bug spray. Off! it isn't (and I seriously can't believe this is even an actual product that people buy.)

 

And the second is Seth's idea of dinner when I'm too under the weather to cook. Making up for all the salads and quinoa in one meal!

"Amy" and "Seth" weekends. Respectively.

Having survived Chancellorsville (literally, it felt like), the rest of the week should have been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, horrific karma seemed to have struck my outlook calendar at work, and I found myself racing between the commander's cup swim meet (a major annual event at which I did not even have the pleasure of doing a cannonball this year) and a two-day joint appellate training (which could easily have been squeezed into a lunch conference call, and required my entire office to close up shop and relocate to Ft. Myer in our uncomfortable and ugly class B uniforms.) So I spent a lot of time fighting traffic and cursing at panty hose, which really should not be required of women who are eight months pregnant.

 Seth's week was not quite so miserable, but he did have to figure out how to juggle pack and play assembly with Thursday night football. (When did football take over Thursday too, by the way?) With the help of a couple Coronas, he managed, and the pack and play seems none the worse for it.

Friday we made our way into the city, a rare occasion for us, for dinner with Doug, Seth's old JTAC, and his fiancé. We felt very cosmopolitan- particularly me, since I arrived early and got to pop into the Grant & Lee exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery. Stuff like that always reminds me that we need to take more advantage of our proximity to "city perks" like museums and great restaurants (which terrific intention I inevitably forget by the time post-awful-commute evenings and weekends roll around.) I'm hoping to get in some Smithsonian time this winter when the baby is little, figuring that it'll be a great way to get in some walking with her when the weather is bad, but it remains to be seen how well babies and art galleries mix. I have a hunch.

Speaking of babies, this was the weekend of my NC baby shower, which I had been dreading. To my estimation, 10+ hours round trip was a lot of solo driving for a carload of stuff we didn't really need. (I had let Seth off the hook on this one, since bowhunting season had rolled around and I feel- inexplicably- like I owe him for the fact that newborns go about as well with hunting as they do museums.) Of course, I had forgotten the fact that the shower hosts and attendees were my friends who know me, so we had a lovely, funny, shower games-free get-together in the beer cellar room of my favorite gastropub, and laughed about the gifts I didn't understand over cupcakes. Takeout Thai afterwards followed by a Sunday morning stroll and gossipy brunch with girlfriends combined for a terrific, if too-short, weekend of much-needed "girl time." Admittedly the drive home- with 95 traffic, natch!- convinced me that I was done with long road trips for awhile, but it was well worth it.

Not to mention that I came home to "I missed you" flowers and a husband who had apparently missed me enough to fold laundry and ordered my favorite pizza for dinner. Seth had had a great weekend too, hunting and fishing on the Eastern Shore, and seemed way less concerned about having been viciously attacked by mosquitoes and chiggers than I would have been. He had also knocked off a big chunk of the "honey do" list, and I was beyond thrilled that he had gotten the car seat base installed in his truck (with a minimum of cursing, it sounded like.) It must have been exhausting, since he was asleep before I got halfway through my demonstration of the baby first aid kit. (At least I think he was asleep, although now that I mention it...)

The photo of the week doesn't do the hilarious event justice, but is of Heather showing me how to wrap the complicated Moby wrap in the parking lot after my shower. So wish us luck with that.

One of those weeks

The sun beat down on my face, and I could feel my nose starting to burn. I was hungry, tired of standing around, and bored to tears. I had been feeling ridiculously grateful that I hadn't seemed to contract the swollen ankles and achy back and other unpleasant symptoms of mid-third trimester pregnancy I kept reading about, but now I wished I had an excuse to get back on the bus.

My office was on our mandatory semi-annual staff ride, which strongly resembled a grade school field trip, but with fewer bathroom stops, no snacks, and way less fun. This one involved an all-day tour of the Chancellorsville battlefield, complete with overly enthusiastic (and long-winded) guide and a whole lot of time on the bus.

I survived, eventually, but it was painful. I was not having a good Army week. On Monday, thanks to an argument at the Army Court of Criminal Appeals, I had been forced- after months of avoiding it- to wear this ridiculous garment. The Army's answer to "professional" maternity wear is anything but, and it was tough to mask my indignance at the all-too-visible insult.

It was probably just one of those weeks. I hadn't hit the "I'm so uncomfortable I'm ready to have this baby" stage of pregnancy yet, but it was definitely becoming more of an effort to do things. I usually raced through the commissary, grabbing groceries on a quick lunch break. This week I dreaded it, and eventually sort of lumbered through the aisles, figuring anything I missed I could just get next time.

I hadn't seen much of Seth, either, since he spent the weekend in Nebraska and got in late Sunday night. He has evening classes Mon-Wed and works on homework until late, so between my week of long days and his playing catch-up, we were pretty much passing off the house keys. I think we're working on getting down his school routine, though- he's definitely busy, if the absence of wet fishing gear in the driveway is any indication.

It did sound like he had had nice weekend in Nebraska with Jayne and Tony and his Grandpa, a trip he'd been meaning to make for awhile. I felt bad that we had waited until I was too far along to fly, but was glad they had gotten to spend time hanging out together and seeing family. In sad news, however, our weekend of amazing football luck didn't hold, and all of our teams lost this weekend. Some badly.

I stayed home on my own, and instead of watching the football carnage had a nice weekend catching up on sleep and errands, and hiking with girlfriends. Michelle and I had a long-overdue dinner date, and I finally got the baby laundry done and sorted (a monumental task of which I was inordinately proud.) This coming weekend, it's Seth's turn to install car seats while I head down to NC for a baby shower. 

...anndddd just when I was feeling a little sorry for myself, Seth came home with chocolate and we found a few minutes to hang out on the couch. We all have those weeks. They're not so bad when you tackle them with your best friend.

This week marks another big milestone- Dad's 60th! He and Mom spent it hiking. Of course. Seth and I are looking forward to celebrating with them over smoked meat (we got him a smoker we hope he likes!), but in the meantime, we all wished Dad a video HBD.  

Big fish and big football weekend = a happy big guy

Let's be honest. Last week was dominated by The Big Fish. And not just because I'm still trying to get the smell out of my washer and dryer after Seth's post-fish-fillet cleanup efforts.

In his own words, I feel like these pictures should just come with a cheesy a one liner that you would see on the back of a Bass Pro T-shirt of "What Rednecks Do After Dark". However, I have to thank my wife for so many things. The main one being that she just makes my life a whole lot better everyday, and she puts up with me of course.

This is the largest critter with gills that lives in freshwater that I have ever caught. I know its not a 10 lb. walleye... I am still hoping to catch one of those in my lifetime too. This is a large river fish that I did catch from my kayak though.

I can honestly say that if it wasn't for Amy Nieman I would not own a kayak, nor would I have ever fished from one.

I have been an outdoorsman my entire life. Which to me means being at one with nature while at the same time pursuing a huge animal that I can eventually put on the table. Usually I am not far from an F150, four wheeler, or boat with a motor though. It always just seemed more efficient.

It was not until I meant Amy that I truly understood that you can be an outdoorsperson without pursuing animals in the woods. Amy loves being outside and appreciating nature while at the same time having an adventure and getting some cardiovascular exercise. I really do love sharing my life, my time, and my adventures with Amy and that is why I decided to get a kayak not long ago. (I got Amy a kayak last Xmas, because she thinks they are cool, and until recently she had been pretty much kayaking on her own.)

Plus I thought it would be pretty bad ass to fight a big old River Cat from a kayak while being pulled up and down the river. Turns it out it is. I have been chipping away at figuring out how to fish these things the last couple weeks. I am glad that I finally got lucky tonight. And I do kind of feel like Huck Finn when I am paddling around by myself under nothing but the moonlight. And I am so grateful that my nearly 8 month pregnant wife puts up with me when I say, "one more cast..." when we both know that I am going to get a bite on the next cast and that is going to motivate me to cast five more times after that or until I catch the big one...

And also she doesn't worry about me too much when she doesn't hear from me... Because you guessed it. I caught this monster and I was so excited to take a picture and send it to my lovely wife that I dropped my phone in the Potomac. That is the second phone that the river has taken from me in the last two weeks, but what the heck... Who's keeping score.

I am very happy to have tried something new, but mainly I am thankful to have such a great wife that loves me and keeps me learning and broadening my horizons.

So there's that. Putting up with late-night fishing (apparently that's when they bite?) and fishy-smelling laundry lands you "terrific wife" status. Noted.

I myself love our evening paddling dates, but have learned my lesson: stick around for the sunset and then hightail it home, leaving the big guy to the nasty, mosquito-plagued, and interminable business of killer catfish- landing.

Still smelling slightly piscine, we headed to West Point this weekend to catch the season opener against Buffalo. (We had opted for the early morning haul Saturday rather than the painstaking Friday evening freeway crawl out of the DC area. The early alarm definitely paid off, as the drive took us no time at all.) We made it in time for kickoff, and had a terrific- if sweltering- time watching the Black Knights roll over Buffalo. Seth was thrilled about the team's performance under the new head coach, and improvement since we saw them play in the spring. Finally feeling eight months pregnant, I was mostly excited about spending halftime in the air-conditioned "A" Club room.

Seth spent the afternoon catching up with friends and mentors while I tried not to melt, which longsuffering patience eventually scored me a trip over the mountain to Prima Pizza. I had been hearing about its many superiority practically since the day I met Seth, and I have to say that it was not just my unwillingness to consume stadium hot dogs for lunch that made me concur. It was amazing. Between that and the gorgeous views of the Hudson River valley, I was again reminded that being stationed here was not going to be so bad.

We skipped the Highland Falls nightlife this time for beer/ ginger ale (guess who got which) and football in bed. It was a terrific decision, and I was thrilled to catch the end of SC's upset win over Stanford in my pajamas. Thanks to either pregnancy or late-night fishing- and most likely a little bit of both- our idea of weekend fun is a littler tamer than the usual, but we'll take it.

We took our time on the trip home, stopping for an incredible lunch at the incredible Backfin Blues in scenic Port Deposit (score a big yelp win for Seth), and allowing time for me to discover the shocking New Jersey "full service only" gas station law (how is that a law?!) We also got to listen to the Vikings game, courtesy of my new satellite radio, completing the trifecta of awesomeness as far as Seth is concerned- wins by Army, USC, and the Vikings (plus, of course, NDSU, although they really never lose.)

We made it home jussstttt in time to ignore all of the weekend chores that had piled up and hit the river for a sunset paddle. I didn't have my phone with me (having learned from Seth's bad luck with electronic devices and rivers), so he took the photo of the week with his loaner brick phone (complete with slide-out keyboard.)

As photos never do really do a sunset justice, it probably doesn't matter what we used to try to capture it. Suffice it to say,  it was a spectacular evening on the Potomac. We had the river all to ourselves and we sat in companionable silence, taking in the vivid colors reflected on the river's surface and the cacophony of early evening sounds. It was a nice moment.

In the picture, I'm feeling Baby Nieman kick. We think she likes family paddling dates.

... anndddd a post-vacation vacation!

We found a way to beat the inevitable, depressing post-Hawaii blues.

Take another vacation. Immediately.

It was Seth's idea, something about needing a getaway before he started school. (Meaning he hadn't caught any fish on his post- night- of- drinking deep sea fishing debacle in Hawaii, so he was jonesing for a lake and a bucket of nightcrawlers.) I myself never object to an adventure, so we frantically unpacked our suitcases and threw every piece of clothing we owned in the laundry. I put in just one- insanely long- day of work, and we headed for the hills for a Labor Day weekend/ farewell to summer/ beat the blues weekend.

I only felt a little bit bad about ditching our woefully neglected yard and the sandy towels we had left on the basement floor. It was tough to be too wrapped up in the long-ignored "to do" list when my view looked like this.

We had made hasty reservations at the Resort at Glade Springs, where I hoped to balance some downtime by the pool with Seth's obsessive desire to "slay fish," a desire apparently so deep that my "my eyes don't open all the way before 9am" husband set his alarm for pre-6am two days in a row. Infuriating and truly impressive at the same time. (Do I smell hunting season around the corner...?)

At any rate, we had a terrific time paddling together on Bluestone Lake (Seth having replaced my stolen kayak in record time), Seth caught a few fish floating the New River in a zodiac (a trip I had to skip, since apparently whitewater and unborn babies don't mix), and we discovered this place in the middle of nowhere, WV, with unbelievable food. Seth rarely raves about dinner (unlike yours truly, a die-hard food raver), but in an attempt to get me to take a bite of his pecan-crusted trout he told me solemnly, "it doesn't taste like fish. It tastes like heaven." I cracked up. And the fish was almost as good as the peanut butter pie. Almost.

We swung by Fayetteville on the way home so I could show Seth one of my favorite outdoorsy towns and whine just a little bit about pregnant ladies not being allowed to climb the beautiful nuttail sandstone walls of the New River Gorge. As a consolation prize, we spent a rainy afternoon stuffing ourselves with gourmet sandwiches and decadent pimiento cheese fries at The Secret Sandwich Society, an old favorite, and checking out the jaw-dropping single span New River Gorge Bridge.

Of course all vacations must come to an end, and eventually we had to head back and face the music. By which I mean, of course, our "War and Peace"- sized "to do" list at home. We worked like Trojans all day Monday, my first-ever "labor on labor day" observance, and maybe it was all for the best: hours of hot, miserable yardwork made us long for Siberian tundra rather than Hawaiian beaches. After a long day without too much complaining- since we had been on vacation for what seemed like months-  we finally had a respectable yard, clean beach towels, and bathrooms that weren't biohazards. I even braved the Labor Day sales and my fear of craft stores to get frames for Baby Nieman's room. All in all, a productive day.

We celebrated with one more fishing excursion, against my better judgment. Seth talked me into an evening paddle on the Potomac (of course with all of his fishing tackle and no fewer than four poles rigged up), which turned into a pitch black slog through knee-deep river silt when I finally got him out of the water. If there had been leeches in it, as there were in my vivid imagination, he might never have made it to his first day of school.

Luckily, we eventually made it home- covered in mud but thankfully leech-free- in time for late-night leftovers and a still- jet lagged crash, visions of a terrific summer dancing in our heads. Or something like that. Seth had class Tuesday, and we were down to roughly nine baby-free weeks. It was time for new adventures.

I guess the photo of the week can be me with my new hedge trimmer. It seriously is the best invention ever.